


Portal Art

by Liana Mir (scribblemyname)



Series: Drabbles & Double-Drabbles [199]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Art, Drabble Series, Fantasy, Gen, Mermaids, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 10:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/Liana%20Mir
Summary: Ocean crashed through paint and wet her, soaking her in an instant.





	Portal Art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisuru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuru/gifts).



1.

Liria first took up paints as a tiny child, her bare feet up on a stool to reach a canvas as a skill beyond her fingers seemed to rise up, drawing lifelike beauty into the ocean she painted, into the mermaid breaking through the surf in an ancient time.

"There," Liria whispered, instinct sure. "It's done."

Ocean crashed through paint and wet her, soaking her in an instant, drowning her in moments more if it weren't for the long tail, sinuous and smooth scales, and graceful fins trailing past her.

She was drawn to the surface and gasped for breath.

2.

The girl that pulled herself up out of the ocean and onto the rock wasn't like the other mermaids, the bard thought to himself as he looked upon her. She moved like them, but then legs rose from the water, bare feet touched stone and sunlight, and she rose to stand as human as he was. And yet not.

She stared at him with dark eyes wide, mermaidlike intensity. She opened her mouth, and her song nearly pulled him right off his feet toward her. Siren song in a mermaid diver in a human body.

Cursed then. The bard ran.

3.

Nothing wrong with ancient myth and sea. Nothing wrong with when she'd fled to from her childhood home, but her fingers hadn't forgotten. Liria drew color to her fingers and painted the stars across her stone, a smooth arc too unnatural to not have been born from human hands. Instinct guided her as ever, magic thick in her blood.

The arc was smooth and silver, like pearl and not shell. "There," she whispered. "It's done."

Silver walls shone around her, nearby stars shining through glass panes. A spaceship and idly chatting crew.

She hoped they were as nice as mermaids.

4.

He doesn't know what he was expecting when he went to see the oracle. She was supposed to be descended from the gods, wise in all things.

She held her throne at the local Starbucks, sipping coffee or tea as the mood took her.

"I don't know how you could help me," he said skeptically. "You don't know my father."

She traced her stirrer through whirls of cream, his father's bust appearing in coffee, startling him.

"What do you want to know?" she asked, this Oracle of New York.

"How will he react?"

"See yourself. There," she said. "It's done."


End file.
